Tangled up in you and you and you
by seatergirl71
Summary: Casey is a responsible, straight-laced girl whose world turns upside down when she gets involved with the Venturi men...at the same time! Rated M for sexual situations and language.
1. Chapter 1

**Well, I wrote this ages ago but I wasn't sure I wanted to do anything with it. Reading it again I have to say . . . damn, that's good writing! ;) **

**As always I own nothing except my fragile ego, which will be crushed if you don't review. **

**Oh yeah, and Casey is not related to any of the Venturis.**

**Tangled up in you….and you….and you**

**Chapter One**

My name is Casey McDonald. I'm 24 years old and I live in London, Ontario, Canada. Currently, I'm attending law school, interning at a law firm and working weekends cleaning offices. I'm a responsible, conservative, politically aware young person who prides herself on being the most mature among my group of friends. When they were out partying during college, I was studying. When they were nursing hangovers, I was job hunting. Yep, I'm the pride and joy of my family. Oh, let me tell you about them: My mom, Nora, who is divorced from my dad, who I haven't seen in years, and my sister Lizzie are my best friends. They're my biggest supporters and are always there when I need them. Up until now. You see, I've gotten myself into a situation that I never thought I would be in. A situation that I enjoy, actually, as complicated as it is. What is it, you ask? Well, let me tell you how I found myself involved with three men – _at the same time_. Their names? George, Derek and Edwin Venturi.

It all started a year and a half ago . . .

A typical Friday night – well, not typical, because this Friday night I didn't have to work. And because of that, my roommates – Emily, Sally and Kendra – insisted that I go out with them to this new club that was supposed to be "da bomb". (Kendra's words, not mine). Me? I would rather be at home relaxing and giving myself a pedicure. But I cannot say no, especially when faced with the pouting faces of not one, not two, but _three_ girls who, besides my mom and sister, are my closest friends on the planet.

So here I am, crowded into a building packed full of sweaty, gyrating bodies (the amount of which I'm sure exceeds the fire code of safety), and wishing that the night would be over so I could go home to bed. My friends are not amused with my attitude.

"Dammit, Casey! Why do you always have to suck the fun out of everything?" Kendra yells in my ear as I sip my strawberry daiquiri. "I mean, this is the first time we've been out in forever, and all you want to do is go home! I don't get you!"

I look at her over my glass. Kendra and I became friends in high school. It's a funny story, actually. We ran in different circles (plus, she was a year ahead of me) – she was popular . . . and me? . . . not so much. Well, to make a long story short, we shared a class together – Language Arts – and were paired up to be partners on a poetry project. Kendra was about as excited to be paired with me as I was with her. At first, all she wanted to do was file her nails and let me do all the work. Me, being the moral, conscientious student that I was, insisted that she actually _do_ her share. We butted heads at first, but eventually I wore her down with my charming personality. OK, I helped her get a date with my hot next door neighbor, and we've been friends ever since.

Right now, she was waving her hand in front of my face. "Casey! Are you in there? I'm talking to you!"

I smiled. "I hear you, Ken, I'm just ignoring you."

She rolled her eyes. "Gah! Come on, woman, you _are_ going to dance with me," she said before grabbing the drink out of my hand and setting it down. Great, doesn't she know you're not supposed to leave your glass unattended at these places? Well, she's paying for my next one, I can tell you that.

Kendra dragged me by the arm out to the dance floor where Sally and Emily were already dancing. They smiled and moved to make room for us. "This place is awesome!" Emily said while shaking her booty to Flo Rida.

Let me tell you about Emily: She's the most – what's the word – ebullient of my friends. Always excited about anything and everything. Pair that with her bouncy head of curls and you have a regular Shirley Temple on your hands. I met Emily when I moved to London from Toronto with my mom and sister. We moved in right next door. (The hot guy lived on the other side). We became friends on my first day of school when I found out I would have to share a locker with her (to my dismay). But she was cool and even put up with my grade grubbing, klutzy self. She too, became friends with Kendra after awhile and we've been thick as thieves since.

Back to the story: "Yeah, awesome," I said tonelessly as I limply shook my hips to the music. My sarcasm was lost in the beat of the music and I scowled.

"Come on, Case. You can do better than that. We all know that you're the best dancer out of all us," Sally said from her spot next to me. She was half talking to me and half grinding up on some guy I've never seen before. Hmmm, I wonder what her on-again, off-again boyfriend would think of that.

"Flattery will get you nowhere, Sal," I say as I turn my back to her and flip my long brown hair in her face.

I can hear her snort behind me and then suddenly she's there, grabbing my hips and grinding up on me like a slut. "Baby, you're so sexy when you're mean," she says in my ear and I laugh in spite of myself. Sally is the friend I never thought I'd have – we met at Smelly Nellie's, the job I had in high school. At first I thought she was a typical blond, snobby bimbo, but she proved me wrong when she overheard me one day complaining about having to plan a surprise birthday party for Lizzie. She offered to help! Even though we had barely said two words to each other, and frankly, I thought she hated me. Well, maybe she was just responding to the dirty looks I was giving her. No matter. After that, we were buds.

Now, to explain the grinding up on me thing – Sally's straight – she just likes to get the guys all excited by pretending to like chicks. And her favorite target? Me, of course, the person who would be most uncomfortable with the attention. At first, I was mortified when she would flirt with me, but now it's old hat and I allow it. Sometimes I even play along. We've whipped up some guys' libidos at parties previously before leaving them alone with their blue balls. I know; we're bitches.

"Sal, you know I hate it when you get me all riled up and then don't follow through," I said turning to face her and putting my arms on her shoulders. I moved closer and slipped a leg in between hers. We were both wearing short skirts that night and I was glad I shaved before coming. Hey! I almost didn't, OK? I told you I didn't want to go out . . .

Sally laughed and her alcohol-laden breath hit me in the face. She leaned closer and put her lips next to my ear. "See the guy behind me? Is he looking? I think he's interested but I'm not totally sure yet." I went to look but was stopped by her hand on my neck. "Be cool! Don't let him see that you're looking, OK?" she said urgently in my ear.

Yeah, yeah. "Yeah, yeah," I mumbled as I nonchalantly turned my head to scan the room as Sally and I basically humped each other on the dance floor. Oh, he was looking alright: His eyes were about to pop out of his head. I laughed inwardly. Men. They are _so_ predictable. Well, what I knew of them. See, I had only one man in my past – my high school boyfriend Sam. Back then, he was my everything – my sun, my moon, my stars, my air – I loved him with all my heart. I was convinced that after high school we would go to college together, then get married, then have kids, then grow old and die and be buried next to each other with one of those big stones for both of us. _Sam and Casey Miller: So in love that they even died together._ All our friends would be jealous of our continued happiness and would wonder why they didn't have what we had.

But I was wrong. Sam and I lasted for two years. We broke up during our senior year when he decided that he wanted to "play the field" to make sure it was me that he really wanted. He said he couldn't stay with the same girl his whole life unless he knew what else was out there. Of course, he used prettier words, but that's basically what he meant. I was crushed. I couldn't eat or sleep. My grades slipped. I could barely get out of bed. My mom and sister were worried sick about me and my friends were angrier than hell at him. Emily got into his face at school and I know for a fact that Kendra lost a few press-on nails punching Sam in the jaw. I did nothing, however. I didn't beg him to come back. I just waited. Because I was sure about our future together. I just knew that he would come to his senses and return to me. I was positive of it. By graduation, we would be back together where we belonged.

It didn't happen. He never came back.

So I went on. I pulled myself together (after a few months of grieving), and got on with my life. Since then, I've kept men at a distance. Oh, I've been on some dates, but nothing serious. I have male friends, of course, but they all know better than to even think about anything more with me. Because for them to do that would be an instant end to our friendship. I never vocalized it, but that's the way it is. It works for me.

Am I lonely? Sometimes. Do I get jealous when my friends get boyfriends and hot sex? It depends. Because I believe that no sex is worth the trouble of having a relationship with a guy that you're not sure of. My thought is that anything short of marriage is a no-go when it comes to sex for me. I've slept with one man in my life, and look how that turned out. No way, sister. Not me. I see how my friends agonize over whether or not a guy is going to call them back after giving it up to them on the first date. How they're crushed over and over again. Not me, baby. If anyone's going to do the crushing, it's gonna be me.

But don't misunderstand. I'm about the mushiest person out there. I believe in love. I believe in romance. The problem is there's not much of that out there. Or, in my case, I haven't yet come across a guy who I'd be willing to put it all on the line for. But when I do, it'll be all out for me. I guess I'm a girl of extremes – it's all or nothing. Take it or leave it.

Oh, sorry, back to checking out the guy . . . I finished scanning the room and leant in to her ear. "Oh, he's looking all right. He looks like a dog with his head hanging out the window."

Sally giggled in my ear. "Got him – hook, line and sinker," she snickered taking her arms from around me and turning back to him. I smiled and continued to dance, actually getting into it a bit. (Don't tell anyone, but Sally was right. I am by far the best dancer out of our group. I guess all those years of dance training come in handy, right? Thank you, mom.)

I stayed out on the dance floor for a few more songs before I felt like I needed to take a break and get another drink. I headed back toward the bar with Kendra and Emily in tow. Sally was left on the dance floor still grinding on the tongue-hanging-out guy. "You'd better have your wallet out sister, because you're buying me another drink," I said snarkily while sidling up to the bar.

Kendra snorted. "Yeah, I got it. What do you want?" she asked pulling the money out of her pocket. It had taken all of us to convince Kendra not to bring her purse (which is huge) into the bar. Kendra was convinced that she couldn't go anywhere without her makeup. Only when I noted that it would probably get stolen did Kendra get with the program.

I thought about it. "Ummmm, I guess I should stick with daiquiris. I'm not stupid enough to mix my alcohol."

"Strawberry again?" Kendra asked while waving down the bartender.

"Yep," I said my eyes wandering over the room. I was beginning to get bored and could feel the week catching up with me. My bed was sounding better and better.

I was just taking the first swallow of my drink when I felt someone staring at me. I turned my head and locked eyes with _him_. He was across the room standing next to who I assumed were his friends. He wasn't really my type – about my height – I usually like men that are taller – with messy brown hair and brown eyes, although I could tell from the way the lights played off his hair that there was red in it.

It was the weirdest thing. I have to admit that it struck me like in the movies – everything went into slow motion; my heart sped up and my mouth went dry. Our gazes remained locked for what seemed like an eternity until I could feel the skin of my face burning and I just had to look away. I gulped and took a big sip of my drink, trying not to look that way again. There was just something about him . . .

"Casey, you're spacing again," Emily said in my ear.

"What?" I asked somewhat breathily. Oh, how embarrassing. I never let a guy affect me like this. My body itched to turn around again, but the way the hair stood up on the nape of my neck made me believe he was still looking, and I wasn't about to appear desperate by making eye contact with him again. Because I'm not – desperate, I mean . . .

"Ooooh, Casey, there's a hot guy checking you out!" Kendra said excitedly into my other ear.

"Really?" I asked trying to appear casual. Well, maybe it wasn't him she was talking about.

"Yeah, he's at the other end of the bar," Kendra added, nodding her head in that direction.

It _was_ him. Somehow he was right there, not 30 feet away. This time I didn't have to turn my head to see him. All I had to do was raise my eyes, which I did slowly. My gaze met his and there my heart went – galloping away with itself. "Oh my, he's looking at you like he wants to eat you up," Emily commented clucking her tongue. Sometimes she sounded like an old lady.

I took a sip of my drink but didn't break the stare. I could see his lip quirk upward a little bit as he took a sip of his. "Damn, he's fine," Kendra said jealously. "Are you gonna go over there?"

"What? Why would I do that?" I asked her whipping my head around to look at her.

"Well, duh, because he wants you?"

"Just because he's looking at me doesn't mean he wants me. You're overreacting as usual," I said my eyes shooting him another look. This time his head was turned. He was talking to a guy next to him. I took that opportunity to examine him further. I was wrong – he was taller than me by a few inches – and looked to be in very good shape. Not overly muscular, but the body underneath his t-shirt and jeans looked good – damn good. I took another big drink and turned away. I didn't need this. I just wanted to go home. Right?

"Oh god, he's coming over here!" Kendra practically squealed into my ear making me wince. I took a deep breath and tried to act as cool and collected as I could. He was just a guy. Emily and Kendra discreetly started distancing themselves from me and turned toward each other pretending to be in a deep conversation. I wanted to laugh, they were so obvious.

I saw him approach from the corner of my eye. He was taking his sweet time getting over here. I kept my gaze away from him and continued to scan the room nonchalantly. At least I hope I looked that way. Knowing me, I probably looked more like a panicked mom trying to find her kid in the grocery store. At the last minute, I threw a glance down at myself and straightened my clothes, which consisted of a red halter top and black mini skirt. On my feet were my most comfortable high heels – they were actually made for dancing and cost me a bundle – but I was always the only one to not have sore feet after a night out. It was money well spent.

When he was next to me, I pivoted toward him and met his stare, saying nothing. I tried to keep my face blank. I was going to wait for him to make the first move. Or the second, as the first move was him coming over here in the first place. "Hey," he said smoothly. "I'm Derek. Do you want to dance?"

And so it began.

**Again I say, review please!**


	2. Chapter 2

**Disclaimer: **I own nothing, certainly not the rights to a Canadian TV show.

**Chapter Two**

"Casey!"

"Hey, we're _waiting_ over here!" I can hear you say distinctly in my ear.

So you're wondering what the heck happened next, right? I apologize profusely. It was very rude of me to make you wait so long. But you know how it goes. Life gets in the way and all that. And there's been lots happening, let me tell you.

Well, I'll skip along a bit and let you know that despite the knock-my-socks-off meeting between Derek and me, things didn't progress any further that night. Oh, we danced and exchanged pleasantries, and even had a nice chat while sitting at a cozy table in a corner of the noisy bar.

Derek was…well, he was _dreamy_, to put it mildly. If I were the shallow type. But I'm not. Shallow, I mean. Yeah, I could have taken him home and fucked his brains out. I'm pretty sure he wouldn't have argued, but it wasn't going to happen. Hey, didn't I just finish telling you my thoughts on men and sex? OK, then. I'm not a hypocrite.

Well, not then, anyway. See, there were things . . . oh forget it!

Anyway, Derek was charming and funny. He said all the right things and he made me feel like I was the only woman in the room. Nevermind the numerous other chicks in the bar who kept shooting surreptitious glances at him from under their over-processed hair. He kept his eyes only on me, and I must confess it made my palms sweat. And that _never_ happens.

So we talked and we danced and we laughed, all under the watchful eyes of my trying-not-to-be-obvious-but-dying-to-know-what-was-being-said friends. Whew! I know, right?

As the night went on, Derek and I pretty much stayed together and I was thinking of a first date, then a second, then so on and so forth. My thoughts ran away from me, and for the first time since Sam, I could imagine myself being happy with a man.

Then he asked me to leave with him. I know, I was surprised too.

Did he honestly expect me to go home with him? Did I look like a hussy? Frankly, I was offended and a bit disappointed. Up until then, he was a perfect gentleman, not even trying to look down my blouse! (Not that I noticed, anyway).

I politely declined but offered to exchange numbers. We did, and he kissed me on the cheek before leaving with his friends.

As soon as Derek was out the door, my girls surrounded me, demanding details and basically whipping themselves into a tizzy of hormones over the "smoking hot" (Kendra's words) guy that was obviously _soooo_ into me.

I told them as much as he told me, which, in hindsight, wasn't that much. Belatedly, I realized that I was the one who had done most of the talking, with him listening patiently and looking into my eyes, _which didn't affect me at all_.

Emily, Sally and Kendra were understandably dismayed when I didn't have a lot to tell them about Derek. I knew his first and last name, which was Venturi, by the way – never heard that one before – and that he worked in the 'service sector'.

When Sally asked what the hell that meant, I stumbled for something to say, because I usually don't allow those kinds of vague answers. When I ask a question, I want a straight reply, not some wishy-washy description. Which goes to show just how affected I was by him.

Anyway, after enduring the whole ride home being made fun of by my roommates for not getting more info on my "mystery man", (Emily's words), I told them all to suck it and spent the rest of the night (at least the part where I was still awake) sulking and mentally bashing myself in the head. I mean, on one hand, I was giddy from meeting Derek, skipping way ahead of myself and not-so-subconsciously planning our wedding. On the other hand, I was disgusted and ashamed for letting him get to me like that. I'm not some desperate floozy who combs bars looking for some douchebag who will take care of her. I'm Casey McDonald, damn it! I don't need anyone, especially not some _man_.

After getting home and removing all my heavy make-up (Geez, Case, you have to wear a lot of make-up in the bar otherwise you'll look all washed out!, says Kendra), I crawled into bed and mashed my fist a few times into my pillow, trying to find that perfect fit for my big, fat stupid head.

Sighing, I gave up and nodded off thinking of Derek's smile and the twinkle in his eyes when he said he would call me.

He never did.

Oh well, c'est la vie, right? I tried to put Derek out of my head and I went on with my life. Studying, working and . . . studying. I told you, I'm not much of a social butterfly.

I did, however, meet the sweetest guy I've met in awhile, and no, Derek doesn't count because he never called me back! It happened one day when I was in the library at the university…

**I know it's a short one, but I'm just trying to get back into the swing of writing regularly, so cut me some slack, yeah? Oh, and feed my muse by reviewing, would you please? Thank you, lovelies.**


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